


How Could I (Just Die)?

by LostandLonelyBirds (RUNNFROMTHEAK)



Series: Death is But An Illusion [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman Eternal (Comics), Batman Incorporated (Comics), DCU (Comics), Forever Evil (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Alfred sass, Angst, Background Character Death, Bruce Wayne does not know what's good for his children ok, Bruce Wayne is a Dick, Bruce dumb, Damian Wayne Needs a Hug, Everyone Needs A Hug, Gen, Grief, He's not hated enough but we shall get there, Heart Break, Hurt Damian Wayne, Hurt Jason Todd, Hurt Tim Drake, I started sobbing and this is the result, I was just over here figuring things out, I'm very angry still, all hurt minor comfort, and do it better, and then Lovely by Billie Ellish comes on, batboys bonding, class, dc cant keep their shit together, he mad, no tissues included, so ill do their job for them, ur welcome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-30 23:34:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19413775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RUNNFROMTHEAK/pseuds/LostandLonelyBirds
Summary: Damian comes back to life and wishes he hadn't.





	How Could I (Just Die)?

**Author's Note:**

> So I was inspired by an image by laquilasse (featuring a Nightwing memorial glowing blue and Tim comforting Damian in front of it) for this fic, along with the songs "Lovely" by Billie Ellish and "Control" by Halsey
> 
> I want to thank everyone who commented on the last one, bookmarked it or the series, or left a kudo. All of you are the reason this is out so soon! The next one is already in the works and I'll give more details as they come! My tumblr is lostandlonelybirds, Feel free to message me with questions about the story or suggestions! I hope you guys love this one as much as you loved the last one!

Damian's used to disappointment, used to the pain of constantly being lied to and pushed aside. To being held to impossible standards, compared to the merits of others, and always falling short.

Mother, Father, even his supposed brothers treated him like an emotionless _thing_ , to be used at their convenience, under their instructions.

Grayson had been the first to see him as something other than the offspring of Talia Al Ghul and Bruce Wayne, other than the heir to the Demon.

“ _You don’t have to be Talia or Bruce, Dami. I just want you to focus on being a kid, I’ll handle Batman for now, alright?”_

He'd seen Damian for the child he was at heart - desperate for scraps of approval from his father, for _affection_ , for _love_.

Grayson saw him as more than a pawn on his father’s chessboard or a rampant killer that was out of control and needed to be managed. He saw Damian’s faults, saw his blood-soaked past and attempts at redemption, and accepted him.

After his Father’s death, Damian assumed he’d return to his mother and resume his training –

( _leaving before they could ask him to, making it seem as though he didn’t care so it wouldn’t hurt when they dropped him off at his mother’s_ …)

\- but Grayson asked him to stay, asked him to watch his back.

Grayson gave him the trust his father was unable to give, was _unwilling_ to give, even before his ‘death’.

He took the ex-assassin on as his partner, stepping into the Father shaped hole in Damian’s heart effortlessly. He fought his way past all of Damian’s walls, forcing his love and optimism and sheer _goodness_ into the ten-year-old’s fragile heart.

“ _We were the best, Richard. No matter what anyone thinks.”_

He gave his all to Damian – trust, love, faith – without expecting anything from him.

Grayson taught him love, compassion.

Showed him that emotions were a strength, not a weakness. That people could be there for you, unconditionally, without ulterior motive.

Showed him that he was more than what his parents demanded of him.

Showed him what _family_ truly was.

“ _Robin is family, Little D. Mine, yours, ours. That R on your chest connects us all – You, Tim, Jay, Me – we will always be Robin. Just like we will always be family, no matter where we all are.”_

Grayson had never, ever failed him.

Or abandoned him,

Or disappointed him,

Or lied to him.

“ _I’ll always be here for you Little D, even if I’m not Batman anymore.”_

But he _wasn’t_ here.

Damian came back to life confused and afraid, only to find out the one person he wanted wasn’t there -

that Grayson was dead – and Todd was the only one willing to tell him the truth outright.

_“Where’s Grayson?” he’d asked, surrounded by smiling faces and bright lights. It was the first question he’d asked when he regained consciousness, having yet to spot his brother ( ~~father)~~ fussing over his resurrection (something that was most unlike Grayson)._

_But his question had only been met with frowns, his family paling to a shade even the Joker had yet to reach._

_He’d sat up on the bed, legs swinging to the floor as they remained silent._

_Pushing Pennyworth’s incessant fussing aside, he’d repeated the question._

_“Where is Grayson? Is he on some sort of mission?”_

_Silence still echoed his room._

_“He is – “_

_Drake had hesitated; jaw clenched as he’d ran a hand through his hair roughly._

_“Dead,” Todd had finished, an undercurrent of grief lacing his voice, “Big Bird is dead.”_

_His own eyes had widened, shaking his head as his mind raced._

_‘No. Grayson’s not dead, he can’t be dead. We’re partners, he promised to be there.’_

_“I’m so sorry Damian – “_

_“No!”_

_It had come out as a shout, fists clench tight as he stood up, eyes dancing with fury._

_“Grayson is alive! Don’t lie to me!”_

_Drake had reached for him (for what Damian did not know) but Damian shoved him aside as he made his way to the cave._

_“If you won’t tell me where Grayson is, I’ll find out myself!”_

The _absolute reckless fool_ had gone and had himself killed to save others, to save his Father.

He’d put himself in danger and his Robin hadn’t been there to watch his back, _to keep him alive._

Grayson had given him a home, given him _Robin,_ and what had Damian given him in return?

Death.

Pain.

Misery.

He’d tried to give Grayson his life, but Richard died anyway.

He clenched his fists, trying to calm the rampant storm inside of him.

Damian spared a glance at his father, asleep next to him with one arm wrapped around Damian’s shoulders and the other curled around Tim.

Disney movie night, or their sad mockery of it, had been another ploy to help Damian grieve, to help him adjust to his new painful reality -

( _where Grayson was dead, and he was alive and everyone expected him to be the same Damian he’d been before he died when all he wanted to do was wrap himself in one of his dead brother’s oversized hoodies and sleep because if he was asleep, Richard wasn’t dead)_

\- But all it had done was remind him of _who_ wasn’t there and _why_ they weren’t there. He carefully slipped from his father’s grasp –

( _which felt wrong, so wrong, when it was always Grayson who curled around him and Tim like a cuddly, protective octopus)_

_-_ and made his way toward the clock in his father’s office.

( _which had been Grayson’s office, where Damian would sit and do homework and try not to laugh while Grayson goofed off and pushed his work aside to help)._

Damian twists the grandfather clock to the correct time, watching silently as the cogs whirled and turn until the entrance to the Batcave appeared.

_He’d stormed downstairs, legs shaky, head swimming with thoughts._

_Dick couldn’t **be** dead; he would know If he was. Wouldn’t he feel it?_

The air cools as he descends; a solemn silence only broken by the padding of his bare feet against the concrete steps. The cave looked just as it had the day he'd regained awareness; large, empty –

_His breath had hitched as he reached the bottom step, enraptured by a red, haunting glow._

_“No,” he’d whispered, horrified but unable to look away._

_“It can’t be, No!”_

He walks towards it, the shrine of his pain.

It brought a darkness to the cave that hadn’t been there when Damian had died;

A bloody crimson glow,

_“We were the **best,** Richard…”_

Shining throughout the cave like a beacon of hope –

_“…No matter what…”_

-Or a monument to his suffering.

_“…the **best,** Richard…”_

It was hard to look at.

The only costumes Grayson had ever displayed in the cave were the original Batman and Robin suits, taking down Jason’s memorial and claiming it was “cruel” considering the maniac was alive and kicking...

( _"...and killing, Grayson. He uses his guns." But his brother had shook his head, tight pain edging at his smile, and abruptly changed the subject._ )

Now, in the wreckage of the tomb of Todd’s failures and his father’s self-pity –

_Ashes and shards decorating the ground, Grayson’s body littered with cuts as he beat his frustrations into the already shattered glass. Tears pricking the corners of his eyes, fists bleeding profusely, until Alfred stopped him, and Damian watched, unsure of what to do…_

\- the Nightwing’s suit was displayed, limp and tied on the sides like a man pinned to a cross.

He wondered, with sick curiosity, if the suit had been fresh from his mentor’s corpse.

Is that what he’d looked like, when he died?

Loosely hung, arms bound and clinging to the very thing harming him?

What did he see, as he died?

Father? The Villain?

Did he feel pain? Did he suffer?

Was it slow or fast?

Did Grayson think of hi-

The light danced across his eyes and the cave, bringing with it the darkest light he’s ever seen.

The light reminds him of Grayson, in a horrible way.

Flickering, moving from person to person-

_Leaving him feeling empty every time he had seen that suit, hollow and abandoned and cold when it was his Father in the cowl. It was the closest to grief he’d known, that costume. It felt like he’d lost his brother._

-it felt like grief now, like true abandonment. Damian wanted to laugh at his past self’s stupidity, at the thought that Grayson being a town away felt _anything_ like true grief.

He’d been a phone call away, a short car ride away, but Damian had been so caught up in his own mixed feelings with his Father in the cowl, with the fear that Grayson didn’t want him anymore, that he’d never kept in touch. He’d never called Grayson, never surprised him with a visit, or begged him to come home like he’d wanted to.

He’d wasted precious moments with his mentor ( _Richard would always be his mentor, **his** Batman) _that he’d never get back.

Damian wiped at his eyes furiously, staring at the costume he _hated_ that took his brother away from him.

This wouldn’t have happened if he’d been Batman and Damian had been his Robin,

This wouldn’t have happened if his Father had stayed gone.

_(And Damian hates himself for thinking it, for feeling it, but he blames his mentor’s death on his Father. On himself. On the world, for taking the light out of it. On the family, for not taking care of Grayson in his absence, for not protecting him or loving him or watching his back like Damian would have, **should** have.)_

Oh, how he _hates_ that costume. It represents everything the world took from him ( _Grayson’s partnership, his brother/father/mentor_ ) and everything he wishes weren’t true.

It’s grief, pain, suffering, emptiness.

**_Anger. Frustration. Fear. Rage._ **

His fist connects with the glass display once, twice, before the glass shatters and cuts into Damian’s fist.

He feels nothing as he pounds at the display comes apart, breaking piece by piece as shards embed themselves further in his hands.

Damian’s bleeding, and his vision is blurry from tears and sweat, and he just wants to scream loud enough that Grayson would hear him and come running, but Grayson _is dead,_ and Damian _isn’t,_ and it’s just _not **fucking** fair_.

“Why did you have to go, Grayson?! **_Why?!_** I died to protect you! I died to **_save_** you! And you left me anyways! I didn’t even get say goodbye, you selfish bastard! I didn’t even get to thank you, for everything you did for me! I didn’t get to tell you I love you! That you were the Father I never had, when mine died!”

Damian falls to his knees, uncaring of the glass shards surrounding him or the blood leaking from his hands. His voice is a mere, choked whisper, and he doesn’t care that he’s crying where someone could see him, because he’s been in pain for too long, hurting for too long, to just ignore this anymore.

_“…no matter what…”_

“You gave me Robin when I had _nothing_. You trusted me, when no one else would and I,”

He swallows hard, feeling small in front of his brother’s red shining costume, the legacy that killed him.

“I’ll _never_ get to say thank you, or goodbye.”

And his eyes blur again, and he’s shaking, arms wrapped tight around himself as his entire body aches and screams for his dead brother, his dead Batman.

“Damian!”

_“Damian!”_

He doesn’t look, but he knows it’s Drake.

_It’s Todd, surprisingly, who finds him in the cave on his knees in front of his dead brother’s costume._

He sees a blurry Drake holding Damian’s hands delicately, a horrified expression on his face as he see the shards of glass decorating the cave floor.

“Do you think he would have wanted you to act like this, to _hurt_ yourself like this?!”

Damian tears his hands away from Drake, clenching his teeth angrily.

“Don’t you **_dare_** tell me what he would have wanted- “

“Why not? I loved him too!” Drake’s voice shakes with emotion, his fingernails digging into his palm-

_“I loved Dickhead too,” Todd says, voice softer than Damian’s ever heard it. And he’s shocked, because every time Todd and Grayson met, they fought, and Todd tried to kill him. “And it hurts. It fucking hurts. He died, he left us, and he took all the light out of the world with him, right?”_

_Damian’s breath choked, teeth bared in a snarl, eyes squeezing shut to hide tears. “Don’t…”_

“It feels like being flayed alive. Like you want to rip the whole world for daring to keep going without him, right? For acting like he wasn’t everything, like he wasn’t the best of us, for _daring_ to be okay and happy.”

Damian turns to look at Drake, tears still pouring out like an open faucet, not caring about weakness, or appearance, or anything. Because Drake is one of the few people in the world that truly feel what he’s feeling.

“I just want him back.”

_Jason puts his arms around Damian, cradling him to his chest the same way Grayson used to._

_“It’s okay, I know…”_

“I miss him too...” Drake whispers into Damian’s hair, arms tightening around him to try and hold them both together.

_“…we all do.”_

In the light of his dead brother’s costume, Damian lets himself grieve.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bruce hears Damian slip down to the cave, thinking of his brother as he always did when the movies came on. Damian sees Dick in everything, and Bruce hates it. Hates that he feels like he must compete with his adopted son for his biological son’s attention.

Bruce feels like he’s in Dick’s shadow, never living up to Damian’s expectations that were set because of Dick.

He feels like Damian’s constantly disappointed that it’s him in the cowl, rather than Dick. That it’s him alive, rather than Dick.

It makes him question if he made the wrong choices, forcing Dick back into Nightwing, forcing him to stay dead.

He slips down silently, sticking to the shadows as Tim follows Damian.

Bruce stays out of sight, watching as his sons fall apart at their brother’s feet.

He could join them, but it’d feel like more of a lie than it already is.

He won’t intrude, not on their grief.

Bruce can’t fake that too, not when he already fakes so much.

Not for the first time, he wonders if he forced Dick out to keep Damian to himself, or if he truly believed it was for the greater good.

As their sniffles and sobs subside, he goes to move towards them only to feel a hand on his shoulder.

“Alfred?”

His butler’s eyes are as angry as the day he discovered Bruce’s farce, the video of him beating his pain into Dick as damning evidence as the bruises littering his skin.

“You’ll only make it worse, Master Bruce. If you won’t tell them the truth, then let them have their comforts.”

Alfred spins on his heel, marching up the stairs quietly enough to not disturb the boys, leaving Bruce alone in the darkness with his thoughts.

As he looks at his sons, his poor broken sons, he thinks of Dick and wonders if he knows what the greater good is.

**Author's Note:**

> I originally was going to mention Bruce more, but I felt that talking about Damian's struggles was more important for the plot. Damian's head is a mess which is why this might have come out really confusing lol but I feel like I did him justice??? (I hope oof).


End file.
